


green eyed

by piratej



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Gen, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Pre-Relationship, its just a drabble about wooyoung picking yeosang over san in nyc, kind of? not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 10:48:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18248309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piratej/pseuds/piratej
Summary: It’s not like San’s jealous, or anything. Definitely  not.





	green eyed

**Author's Note:**

> that moment at the nyc show was soooo cute and fun and i just had to write a little something about it’

It’s not like San’s _jealous_ , or anything.  Definitely not. It’s just that Wooyoung is _his_ best friend, and it was _him_ that makes Wooyoung’s eyes crinkle up with laughter, and _him_ that wrapped himself around Wooyoung like an excitable octopus. Not Yeosang. _Whatever_.   
  
It wasn’t serious. The audience laughed when San said, “Wooyoung? Go away,” in a voice that didn’t shake (which he was pretty proud of himself for), and Wooyoung laughed when San pressed his face into Yunho’s neck, and then it was back to the show. Wooyoung hadn’t meant anything by it; Yeosang had been his friend for 5 years, and Wooyoung was allowed to have other friends. San just...wanted to be his _best_ one.   
  
After the show, San almost forgets about the entire thing, caught up in the adrenaline and euphoria that came with the last stop in America. At least, until he turns the corner and sees Wooyoung leaning heavily against Yeosang, broad shoulders shaking with laughter, Yeosang’s quieter, bashful giggles tinkling like bells. San _really_ doesn’t notice the way Wooyoung’s hand rests on Yeosang’s arm, or the way the collar of his brilliant red shirt is pulled open to reveal a sliver of golden skin. Really, he doesn’t. Instead, he opts to blow past them completely, gaze deliberately trained on his own pathetically crestfallen visage in the mirror opposite.   
  
He clatters down at an empty spot of the vanity, frowning at his own reflection. Yunho, large and comforting as always, floats into the room behind him, looking briefly at Wooyoung and Yeosang — _still_ _laughing!_ — before coming to sit next to San. “You okay? You did great tonight.” Yunho says earnestly.   
  
That’s San’s favorite thing about Yunho; he’s so _kind_. He’s always there with a kind word and an open ear, just because that’s the kind of guy he is. San smiles at him gratefully in the reflection of the mirror.   
  
“I’m fine. You too,” he replies. San accepts the little container of wet wipes Yunho slides to him, very carefully opening it and removing a wipe. “Where’s Mingi?” It wasn’t often you saw one of them without the other.   
  
Almost on cue, Mingi shuffles in the dressing room, hair sticking in a million directions, followed closely by Hongjoong and Seonghwa, who are talking quietly to one another, Hongjoong’s tiny hands gesturing wildly. San smiles a little, and Yunho pokes his dimple absently. “There’s Mingi.”   
  
Hearing his name, Mingi comes to stand behind Yunho, long fingers curling around his shoulders. Yunho tilts his head back against the flat expanse of Mingi’s stomach, and San feels inexplicably like he’s intruding. He starts to scrub his makeup off, the foundation just a shade too light on him giving way to pink as he rubs.   
  
“San,” Yunho calls, voice low. San glances at him from the corner of his eye. “Talk to him.” He pats San’s shoulder and rises to retreat with Mingi to the other corner of the room, the two of them laughing as they join Wooyoung and Yeosang. San sniffs. Stupid Yunho and his stupid perceptiveness. He returns to taking off his makeup.   
  
When his face is bare except for the dark smudges of leftover eyeshadow that cling to his lower lash line, Wooyoung bounds over to him, excitable and glowing like always. “Sannie! Are you sad?”   
  
San freezes. He hadn’t heard Yunho say anything to Wooyoung, but he could’ve whispered it while Jongho was belting out the chorus to another Adele song, voice reverberating throughout the room until Hongjoong finally told him to stop. “Sad about what?”  
  
“The tour! This was our last show in America, that’s sad, right?” Wooyoung sits down in the chair Yunho vacated, but he’s sitting in it backwards, arms propped up on the back of it, thighs splayed to either side. San resolutely _doesn’t_ _look_.  
  
Returning to scrubbing at the persistent eye makeup, San hums. “I guess.” He’s not in the mood for Wooyoung. Not tonight, with the memory of Mingi’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.   
  
Wooyoung deflates a little, leaning forward to catch San’s gaze. “Hey, are you okay? It’s okay to be sad about it, you know, we—“   
  
San cuts him off, finally tearing his eyes away from the mirror. “I’m not sad about the tour, Wooyoung! I’m _fine_.” He tries not to raise his voice, not with all 6 of their teammates in the same room, but he doesn’t quite succeed. Seonghwa and Hongjoong turn to look at him carefully, and Yunho gives him a shrewd frown. Jongho just wrinkles his nose and continues with whatever story he was telling. Yeosang looks at _Wooyoung_ , sparkly eyes concerned, and that’s just about San’s last straw.   
  
Movements carefully measured to remain calm, San slides his seat back, rising to his feet. “It’s hot in here, _wow_. I’m gonna step outside really quick.” He makes a hasty exit, not looking back at the room because he can’t stand to see that insufferable, knowing look on Yunho’s face. Out in the hallway, San sags against the wall, trying to convince himself that none of this is cause for a tantrum. Why is he even jealous? It‘s ridiculous. Wooyoung is his _friend_.   
  
The door to his right clicks open. Hangdog and oh so beautiful, Wooyoung slides down the wall until he’s sitting beside San, knees folded. “You don’t _seem_ fine.” Wooyoung’s voice is so small, it hurts. “Tell me what’s wrong,” He pleads.   
  
San sighs, leans until his head rests on Wooyoung’s warm, sturdy shoulder. “We’re close, right?”   
  
Wooyoung starts. “Close? Of course we—Sannie, is this about the thing with Yeosang?”   
  
San keeps his mouth shut.   
  
“Oh my God, it is. San!” Wooyoung scolds, pulling away from San so he can reposition himself in front of him, nudging at San’s knee with his own. “Are you serious?”   
  
Dangerously close to either pouting or shouting, San keeps his eyes trained on his lap, following the seams of the suit trousers. “What?”  
  
Wooyoung whines. “San, look at me.” He waits, pushing incessantly at San’s foot with his hand the entire time, for San to drag his eyes up to Wooyoung’s face. It’s a mistake, and San knows it immediately; Wooyoung looks so _pretty_ , head tilted like the Shiba dogs San nicknamed him after, dark eyes glittering, half smile dancing on his lips. “You’re my best friend. Okay?”   
  
Feeling a little embarrassed that a harmless joke upset him so much, San repeats in a small voice, “Okay.”   
  
“I didn’t know it was gonna make you upset, or I wouldn’t have played the trick on you. I’m sorry, Sannie.” Wooyoung’s so painfully earnest, knee bouncing anxiously, chewing on the inside of his cheek. San instantly feels bad that he feels like he has to apologize at all.   
  
“I’m not upset,” San pouts, a halfhearted defense. “I just...”  
  
“Got upset?” Wooyoung supplies. San throws him a baleful glare, which Wooyoung accepts with a smile, one of the ones that stretches his mouth and closes his eyes. “It’s okay to be upset.” It’s a reminder of what he’d said in the dressing room, and San cracks a knuckle, Wooyoung’s eyes tracking the sound, trained on San’s fidgeting hands.   
  
The problem is, San doesn’t even _know_ how he feels. All he knows is that seeing Wooyoung, his best friend, draped along Yeosang’s back, made something in his chest feel very small. It wasn’t about the skinship, because both he and Wooyoung would happily cling to whoever would stay still long enough. It was Wooyoung announcing to the entire venue, to the members of his team, to _San_ , that he was closer to Yeosang than him. That hurt. And San doesn’t know why.   
  
Wooyoung sits there, patient aside from  the vibration of his knee, waiting for San to respond. It takes a while. San chooses his words very carefully. “I know you’ve been friends with Yeosang for a long time. That’s okay, it’s okay to be closer to him. But...” this is the part that San stumbles over, “you’re my best friend, and I‘m closest to you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I just...” San trails off, feeling like he’s admitted to something he didn’t mean to, didn’t realize himself until the words were slipping from his tongue, but it’s too late to take them back. He goes back to counting seams.   
  
“San,” Wooyoung says, in a voice so warm that San has to blink down at his own lap, “You’re so stupid.” This time, San snaps his head up to look at Wooyoung, blinking in outrage. He pours his heart out to his best friend, and gets called an _idiot_ in return?   
  
“ _Stupid_?” San seethes, already clambering to his feet because he would like to be anywhere but here, in front of Wooyoung and his shining eyes and sunny smile.   
  
Wooyoung’s faster, circling his fingers around San’s wrist as he tries to rise. San scowls at him. “Yes, _stupid_. Sit down.” When San, feeling bratty, continues to stand with slightly bent knees, he adds a soft, “please?”  
  
San falls back to the ground with a huff.   
  
“Yeosang is my oldest friend. We’re super close! I tell him more than I tell you, sometimes.”   
  
“More than you tell me?” And here San had thought Wooyoung told him everything. That stings.   
  
Wooyoung nods. “I told him when I got a crush on this other trainee, back on Mixnine.”   
  
San narrows his eyes, unsure how this is supposed to be helping. “You never told me about a crush on another trainee!”  
  
He knows he’s whining, but he doesn’t care. Wooyoung shrugs, like of course. San crosses his arms.   
  
“Well, that’s because Yeosang is my closest friend. But you’re my best friend, _and_ the one I tell everything else to, _and_ the one I’ve had a crush on since Mixnine, _and_ my second favorite in the whole group.”   
  
“ _Second_ favorite?” San rears back. “Who’s the first?” Wooyoung, as always, waits in silence for San’s brain to catch up with his mouth. “Wait.”  
  
Wooyoung laughs his stupid laugh. “Yeah.”  
  
“Me? Since Mixnine?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“ _Seriously_? Even with my haircut?”  
  
Wooyoung shoves at his shoulder with another laugh. “Shut up! That’s why you’re second favorite.”   
  
San laughs, easier than he has since they got off stage. Something flutters in his gut, alarmingly like butterflies, and he bites down on a smile. “Yunho is everyone’s favorite, I don’t feel bad.” He just kind of assumes it’s Yunho, because that’s just the kind of guy Yunho is, and Wooyoung’s eyes crinkle very tellingly.   
  
“Are you okay?” Wooyoung asks, biting his lip, shy. San nods.   
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Okay.” They both laugh, and when Wooyoung stands up, he offers San a hand. If his grip lingers for one long, fuzzy second after he’s safely to his feet, Wooyoung doesn’t mention it, just holds the door to the dressing room open for San to walk through. San smiles weakly at the members in the room, a silent assurance that he’s fine, and very carefully ignores the smug look on Yunho’s face from where he’s watching San follow Wooyoung to an empty ottoman.   
  
Mingi’s head is in his lap, tilted up to talk upside down to Yeosang, content as Yunho winds his fingers through it. San wishes they weren’t so comfortable and aware, just so he could have something to throw in Yunho’s face when he raises his eyebrows at the way San blushes as Wooyoung brushes against his arm after a particularly animated laugh. San sticks his tongue out at him.   
  
Stupid Yunho.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed it + let me know what other pairings/stories you want to see!!


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